


Some Sterek Drabbles

by flowri83



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet, Drabble, First ever fic, M/M, Sort of AU, please be kind, sleepy morning, sort of canon, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2018-12-19 20:39:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11905803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowri83/pseuds/flowri83
Summary: My friend and I have started sending writing prompts to each other to kick start some creativity.This is the first thing I've ever written. Prompts will make up the chapter titles I guess?They can all be read independently, but some will be continuations.





	1. Last Day of Holiday

Writing prompt: Last Day of Holiday 

He woke up gently, warm and comfortable in the bed he’d spent 7 mornings waking up in. As his eyes adjusted to the late morning light they settled on the dark dusting of hair on Derek’s arm. The arm that was slung around his middle, and the cause of a not insignificant amount of the warmth he was feeling. Derek ran hot. Hotter than humans anyway. 

But it didn’t matter how gentle, warm and comfortable his waking was, as soon as his brain caught up with his body the heavy ball of lead in his stomach made itself known. Today was the last morning he’d wake up in this bed, with this warmth. With Derek. 

Their escape from reality was over, his life back in Beacon Hills could be avoided no longer. His life of college essays and part time jobs and werewolves and danger and other people. His life of being ignored by Derek in the name of keeping up the pretence that they weren’t in love with each other. 

No. Scratch that. 

He wasn’t in love, he couldn’t be. They’d made that deal. One week. One week together to get it out of their systems, to let each other give in to the desire that had been simmering below the surface of their every exchange since the day they met 2 years ago. They’d made the deal. No feelings were going to be had. Sexual tension, untensed. That’s all this was.

That’s all he’d let it be. 

At least, out loud. 

Privately, he’s going to allow himself to never forget the 7 days in Derek’s bed, in Derek’s arms. 7 days of whispers and moans and sweat soaked skin. 7 days of soft touches and harsh kisses and teeth grazing skin. This holiday from reality had become the only reality he ever wanted to experience. 

Beside him, Derek shifted. He decided to pretend to be asleep just a little bit longer.


	2. Derek's morning

As the sun beat down through the window into his back, he felt the man in his arms stir. He could hear the uptick of his heartbeat and the change in his breathing and he knew Stiles was awake. His skin was cool against his and for a second he let himself bask in the peace of the moment. 

Any minute now, Stiles was going to wake up, he was going to get out of bed. Out of the cocoon they'd made for themselves over the course of the last week. He was going to make a joke, probably throw out some sarcastic comment about how their little escapism experiment had come to an end. How it was time to go back to reality. 

What even was reality for him anymore? Was it having Stiles in his life, in his pack? Having a human he craved so much, be so close to him and yet not be his? Was Stiles his? This week was supposed to clear the fog Stiles had created in Derek's mind, instead it had grown thicker, the fog had enveloped him until he couldn't see straight, couldn't see anything but the slender, strong, loyal, loving, beautiful man he got to hold in his arms. How they got together so perfectly, physically and emotionally. 

Stiles had to feel it too, didn't he? Nothing this week had been fake or forced. Stiles had to feel how right it had been. How it could continue to be. 

The deal was no feelings, but Derek's feelings had been set the minute his wolf caught the scent of his mate. 

He closed his eyes, and tightened his arm around Stiles a fraction.

He would pretend to be asleep just a little bit longer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New prompt was 'A bad joke'   
> My heart went to angst again!

Derek knew, when the only person to laugh was Jackson, that the joke had wildly misfired. He was going for banter, he was going for a gentle ribbing, he was...god he was useless.

Stiles's virginity wasn't something he hid, for god's sake. He joked about it himself all the time! Didn't he? And witches (mother fucking witches, who knew?) were in town and were sacrificing virgins because as well as being vindictive hags, they just loved a cliché. Ergo, a joke aimed at Stiles, about him needing protection, should have just received a little laugh from everyone and they would have moved on to planning how to take the witches down.

What Derek didn't plan on was the shame, embarrassment and sadness that spiked Stiles's in scent as soon as the weight of Derek's words landed. Jackson barked out a cruel laugh and punched Stiles in the arm and Stiles just. Deflated.

Scott, bless his heart, changed the subject effortlessly and the conversation soon went back to battle strategy. Derek refrained from any further ad hoc attempts at humour and Stiles got involved again, but he was muted somehow. Derek tried to think of a time he'd felt worse but was coming up empty. And that in itself was laughable given his fucking tragedy of a life history. 

He'd always just assumed Stiles was human kevlar. He was impossible to embarrass. He couldn't be laughed at because he was always in control of the comedy. But somehow Derek had managed it. It didn't make him feel special.

Once the plan was in place, people started drifting off to their respective lives and he could see Stiles heading to the door but the feeling that he had to fix things was itching under Derek's skin. He needed to...something.

"Stiles, wait a minute"

The boy looked like waiting even a minute was the furthest thing from his mind, but he hung back anyway as Scott pulled the door closed behind him. The soft click of the door seemed to echo around the loft as they were left alone. The silence stretched on and Derek couldn't remember the last time Stiles had been this quiet without being unconscious. 

He cleared his throat, determined to clear the air. "Look. I'm...sorry. I didn't, I mean, it was just a joke and-"

"You can't joke about that" Stiles interrupts quietly

"What?"

If possible, Stiles looks even more embarrassed. "You don't get to joke about...that. Okay Derek?"

"I know, and like I said, I'm sorry - "

"What were you trying to do anyway?" he asks. "Hell, you never make jokes EVER, so why try now?" Stiles voice was becoming harder, angrier. "Just what were you trying to achieve?"

What was he trying to achieve? What possible answer could he give? The truth? The truth was that he was trying to make Stiles laugh. That his laugh warms parts of him he thought long dead. That when this annoying, bright, stubborn boy throws his head back and laughs, Derek allows himself to believe for a moment that the world isn't all dark and twisty? No. Hah. Not in a million years.

"I was just, trying, I guess." He settles on a partial truth. "You guys are always getting at me for being quiet, stoic, you know? I think I was trying to fit in more. Erica makes digs all the time and I just." He sighs. "I thought I could be like that"

Stiles softens slightly. "I get it, I do. Just." He looks at his feet. "Just don't joke about...that. Me. The sex-not-having thing. Erica can joke because I'm not in...I mean she isn't who I...I mean" he lets out a frustrated sigh and at this point Stiles seems to snap. He's gone full word-vomit. "God! It's not like I don't have offers, okay buddy? Because I do. Lots of offers. Guys, girls, I got my pick. I'm attractive, you know? To people? With eyes? Maybe not glowing blue eyes but eyes and I could have any-" 

(Derek has come to think on Stiles’s word vomit fondly, tuning out what he’s saying and becoming captivated by his hand gestures and his perfect cupid’s bow lips moving but this time something Stiles says gives Derek pause)

"What did you say?" Derek interrupts sharply.

"- guy or girl that I want to but -what?"

"The 'glowing blue eyes' thing you just said? You...was that about me? You don't think I think you're attractive?" Derek stares at Stiles in disbelief.

"Don't play with me, Derek" Stiles says quietly "It's not fair. I know you don't think of me that way, and that's fine, I've learned to live with that but until someone comes along that I want as much as I want you, or until you get your head out of your perfect ass and realise you’re the only person I can even think about sleeping with right now I'm not going to just sex-up anyone in the name of getting rid of the V-card. Virginity is just a social construct anyway so it doesn't even matter and oh my god I didn't just say that, forget I said that, it was a lie and what the hell is happening to your face?"

He's smiling. Derek is smiling big and bright and Stiles is right to question this because he never does that. And he’s smiling because Stiles wants him. There may be witches out there to be stopped, and he’s sure that next week there’ll be something else for them to hunt and kill but for now, Derek can’t think of anything other than the fact that the boy he likes, likes him. He’s going to allow himself this little bit of happiness. He moves closer to Stiles and gently brushes his fingers down his forearm before clasping Stiles’s hand in his.

Stiles just manages to say “Besides, we all know *I’m* the funny one” before Derek stops him talking with a kiss.


	4. Touch Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writing prompt: Touch me
> 
> (This post may or may not be completely auto-biographical)

Stiles has access to hugs, okay? 

His Dad gives the best damn hugs in the county. Big, warm, fatherly hugs. He always knew when Stiles needed one, and he just gave them without question. Like Dads do, you know?  
Scott? Man Scott gave *excellent* hugs. Strong and hard and seemingly never ending hugs. They were a joyous thing, and Stiles was so pleased to have them in his life.  
Lydia hugged only when she deemed necessary, which was usually when she considered it acceptable that you didn’t die. Her hugs were fast, harsh and wonderful, if you were lucky enough to get one.  
Kira will hug you because it’s Tuesday. She’s Stiles’ favourite. 

Because, despite all these people in his life that hug him, Stiles is touch-starved. He knows he can get a big glomping hug when he needs one, but what Stiles wants is more than that.  
He wants that casual easy graze of knuckles over his cheek when he’s made someone smile.  
He wants that fond, guiding press at the base of his spine because he’s in the way in the kitchen.  
He wants to lie down and be able to reach for someone and have them be there in the dark moments.  
He wants to wake up lazy on Saturday mornings and have someone next to him to fold himself into until he’s ready to face the daylight. 

You see, Stiles is lonely. The kind of bone-deep loneliness that people in relationships will never understand. The fact that he has catalogued the hugs he has access to should be testament to that. 

Stiles needs someone to whom intimate touch is second nature, Stiles needs someone who needs contact as much as he does. Stiles needs someone who would, I don’t know, maybe gain strength from physical contact and holy god Stiles needs Derek. 

Stiles makes it his mission to find, experience and catalogue a Derek Hale Hug. And then never let him go.


End file.
